You are speaking of my future lover. Be more respectful.

Hey, our hair's the same color," I said, eying us side by side in the mirror."Sure is, girlfriend." Eric grinned at me.

I’d never seen anything like it. First a trial, then a few murders, then dancing. Life goes on. Or, in this case, death continues.

I hate witches. Humans had the right idea, burning them at the stake.

As I climbed up into the high old bed, the large fly in my personal ointment did the same. Had I actually told him he could get in bed with me? Well, I decided, as I wriggled down under the soft old sheets and the blanket and the comforter, if Eric had designs on me, I was just too tired to care."Woman?""Hmmm?""What's your name?""Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse.""Thank you, Sookie.""Welcome, Eric.

Come on," I said, taking his hand. Clutching the afghan with the other hand, he trailed down the hall after me, a snow white giant in tiny red underwear.

Because he sounded so lost-the Eric I knew had never been one to do anything other than assume others should serve him-I patted around under the covers for his hand. When I found it, I slid my own over it. His palm was turned up to meet my palm, and his fingers clasped mine. And though I would not have thought it possible to go to sleep holding hands with a vampire, that's exactly what I did.

Welcome to Tears of Crimson, the New Orleans Vampire Bar.

Hoyt was by himself right under one of the portable lights rigged up for the occasion. He had his hands thrust in his pockets, and he looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. There was something strange about the sight, and after a second I figured out why.It was one of the few times I’d ever seen Hoyt alone.

Six years of dreams would end in eternal love, or an eternity of loss.

But there was something in the air, a watchfulness laced with a charge of malice. The eyes observing us were invisible, but were observing us, nonetheless.